INSPIRING TUNE

SHE WILL BE LAUGHING STILL, AT THE END. independent jester of the darkest dungeon, by vlad.

[inspiringtune]

NESDIN !

quincey carried each verse with a steady lull that seemed so uncharacteristic from the manic strums that not only occupied the typical empty air of the tavern, but filled it with such a rowdy energy, that one could not help but allow themselves to be made a victim of it. there’s talent in that, even if nesdin wasn’t one to partake. but even considering the even pace, she more than made up for the chaotic energy with the content of the lyrics. 

he says nothing, merely nodding his head in time and sending a wan smile her way. 

she, the talent that few would appreciate in their time. he, her captive and more than willing to give her the attention she deserved. what else could he give her?

the tavern is mostly empty this early in the day and she has more energy than she knows what to do with. ringlets falling past her shoulders, curls bouncing as she sways and cleans for coin, singing an old song she doesn’t remember the origins of -- and she pauses when she notices Nesdin, breaks in the words for a half a moment before she realizes he’s nodding his head along with her words.

she spins with the broom in her hands like a maid in a lord’s castle. and she certainly feels like one, knowing the brothel ladies have opened their doors upstairs to listen to her as well.

“ but, oh, what beautiful things I'll wear  what beautiful dresses and hair. . . ” ♫

“ ah -- Nes! how long have you been there? I thought you left out with the others to the woods. ”

[inspiringtune]

         “ when i'm beheaded, at least i was wedded;            and when i am buried, at least i was married. . . ” ♫

[inspiringtune]

           “ morning in paris, the city awakes              to the bells of notre dame ~ ”

     she’s perched on the stairs of the abbey as she sings, swaying a little as she repairs a tear in one of her dresses.

[valtsv]

pick your head up clown your jester’s cap is falling

[inspiringtune]

@vengefulfinale

[iwannapushyourdaisies]

Visit Original Link

those girls, crazy girls they’re hot, they’re nuts, they’re suicidal

[mv1mg-deactivated20190613]

Let’s go trick or treating.

[musimoni]

(refracted)

[pentatose]

The grand finale

[inspiringtune]

quincey's mask is made of porcelain, carefully smoothed to have no rough edges, and painted with upturned eyes and teardrop shapes beneath them -- but strangely no mouth. without a smile or a frown to denote whether the mask is meant for comedy or tragedy, it appears torn somewhere between rapturous laughter and mournful wailing.

she made it herself.

[inspiringtune]

JUNIA !

          She had heard things similar to that before, from the girls within the brothel. The ones who would talk after sleep, who would lay in bed with her, while she rested her hands on their waists and they told stories to her–stories to the soft-spoken Sister with warm eyes and a kind smile.

         They would tell of men, of monsters. Of belts and brands, of knives, of whiskey and boots. She would listen, and she would always listen. The duty of a Sister was the same across all Faiths. The story of women was the same, even in the Hamlet.

          “Show me.”

     quincey knew the stories too. she’d been to the brothel a few times, had stolen away with the girls inside, had made them laugh and sang for them and sang for them, but she was shy with her face. she was shy with it now, thumbing the edge of the porcelain before she made a show of unclasping the part that held the mask in place.

     removing the mask let the red curls about her face free, framing the mess of scars that decorate her face. there was a spattering of freckles across her nose, darker at the bridge of it, bisected by an old healed gash that made her nose crook in the center. there was another like it in the line of her brow, disappearing into her hairline -- and the worst, the worst, of course, was the line of her mouth.

     the left side curved upwards in a sharp little smile, scar tissue twisted along it almost to the bottom of her ear. the old wound was square, was torn at the edges, was left by a gaudy diamond on a gaudy man. the other side fared a bit better, though there was a gash cut through her lip and showing the barest sign of her canine.

            “ ta-da. ”

[inspiringtune]

CHESTER !

“It fits perfectly, right? I love that hat.”

He nodded with a hum, “Always something else washing ashore nowadays. You should come one of these days.”

There was a pause as he considered the offer, “The Warrens, yeah? Sure Sounds fun. Heard all the little piggies down there like to hoard.”

      she laughs bright at the hat balanced perfectly on her head before she plucks it off and pushes it down on chester’s head instead. once she does, she drops back down onto the bed and crosses her legs on the sheets.

          “ they do! they have so much cool stuff! there’s like -- there’s these scrolls on the ground down there, alhazred thinks they’re reeeeeeeal important. they kinda look dingy and scribbled on though. ”

[inspiringtune]

CHESTER !

“You’re a fancy lady.”

He laughs a little, putting the spear down.

“Oh god no. I will put on a performance and act as their leader. And make them give me all of their cool shit.”

     the hat fits perfectly over the mess of red waves and she tilts her head this way and that, testing it atop her head, before she hums. chester had the most interesting things.

           “ excellent. there’s lots of cool stuff in the cove, yeah? . . .i don’t go there too often. you should come to the tunnels with me next time we go. ”

[inspiringtune]

@stresstal / cont.

      she puts her hands on either side of the porcelain mask that covers her face, the mask looking cheery despite the somewhat serious tone of her voice.

           “ y’know how much people pay for a pretty songbird? ” she gives a little hum, her voice lilting up in a musical way, before she falls quiet. “ folks get real mad when they can’t have something, and when they can’t have it -- no one can. 

          you didn’t answer my question though: d’ ya want to know? ”

[inspiringtune]

CHESTER !

Laughter?

Laughter wasn’t the last thing he expected truthfully, but at a time like this? Unacceptable. He called her name again, his hands resting on her shoulders.

“Quincey? Quincey, calm down–”

He paused suddenly before craning his head back to stare at Vvulf. As bright as they were, tucked so far into the shadows, they were unseen, but it didn’t stop the familiar shiver of fear from running down his back. His stomach drops to his feet– but he turns back, blocking Vvulf from Quincey’s view.

“Look at me, look at me, I need you. We need to take out the cannon.” He points to the cannon, his hand still on his fellow jester’s shoulder. She was terrified and he could only do so much but he will do that much. A spell to call her emotions, just enough.

“–The plan– I’m just runnin’ over, and aimin’ the fucker and I need your help.”

     chester lays hands on her shoulders and the tears dry on her face beneath her mask. chester, her dearest, closest, kindest friend holds her and her mind clears for a moment.

     and then madness spills in again. her manic laughter bubbles again, her shoulders shake with it, her hands coming up to cup her face as if trying to hold herself together.

     the cannon. the cannon! they had to take care of the cannon! she could do that!

     she stretches her hand out, a bright and bold laugh catching high in the middle of her outburst, and magic crackles across her palm.

      BOOM!

     it sounds like the cannon has gone off, but the metal of the cannon crumples and crunches in places and the buildings shake and lose loose stone and rubble as the thunderous boom echoes from where quincey points and laughs and laughs and laughs.

[inspiringtune]

CHESTER !

He follows and keeps up, over rubble, and passed ruined and burning buildings. The path quick and to the point, where the Brigands, corrupt and corroded, bashing and screaming their way into the hamlet. The cannon was in sight, a woman with a matchstick currently failing to fight off Godfrey, Sadie high up and Vvulf facing the cannon. 

It wasn’t the absolute best scenario but dealing anything else probably would’ve give better results. He turned toward Quincey then.

“If we could give it a try, I’d like to use that cannon for our own use. Even better if we’re able to hit Vvulf.” With a bit of luck, they could give it a damn good try.

      vvulf is huge, towering atop the building, and quincey can feel her knees shaking as soon as she lays eyes on him. she’s sad reynauld isn’t here, with his magic hands and his magic aura that makes it impossible to be scared, because suddenly -- she is very, very scared. suddenly, she is small and vulnerable and there is a big man with a big, frightening smile staring her down.

      suddenly, she is giggling. she is laughing helplessly, her hand coming up to cover the mouth of her mask as she shakes with laughter, the noise almost drowning out chester’s suggestion.

       use the cannon. he wanted to use the cannon to -- to do what? to hit him? they had killed vvulf before, gutted him like a pig, and yet he was here. how did that make sense?

      how did any of this make sense?

[inspiringtune]

CHESTER !

Flames were high, rising smoke was even higher. Flares, weak against the amassing damnable light giving away where exactly the howling murderous army are within the Hamlet. They haven’t broke through just yet, and with some luck and some divine intervention, and wit they won’t.

The Abbey was held up, protected by the residential Bishop and Vaux, while Reynauld stood in the far front, waiting. However, the fool’s eyes were searching for another, his fellow Jester. Flagging her down was a lot easier since there so many of her running about.

“–Quincey! I have an idea. Do you know where that blasted cannon is?”

@inspiringtune​

      a one, a two, a three -- four little jesters running through the town! well, one jester and her many mirrors. quincey hops easily over another piece of rubble, dagger gripped tight in her hand, before chester calls her name and her heart leaps in her throat.

     her glee is broken for a moment and her face twists in worry -- worry and elated relief in seeing chester was whole and hale and well. he’s asking a question then, something about the cannon, and she remembers the green flares from before.

           “ i have an idea where it is! come on, come on, this way! ” her hat rings -- and the bells on her copies ring too, an eerie chorus of jingling as she makes her way back towards the thoroughfare that ran into the heart of the hamlet. “ sadie’s with that girl with the match, the one we’ve fought before. she can’t be far from it. ”

[inspiringtune]

     oh! oh! the town is burning!

     a hop, a skip, a tumble -- the rubble poses no danger to the jester with the dancing bells as she does an easy flip and lands on her hands in front of a brigand with two nasty looking knives.

     there are crystals jutting from the corners of his mouth, his eyes, the decayed, ruined points of his body, and quincey makes a disgusted sound as he shuffles forward with those dangerous looking daggers drawn.

     as soon as he swings, quincey seems to still in place, her jaunty jumps frozen in time, before amazingly -- there are not one, not two, but three bouncing jesters!

          “ missed me, missed me! ” she laughs bright and mad, before she holds her hand outstretched and a deafening BOOM! , one that puts the mighty pounder to shame, resonates from the ground beneath the corrupted criminal’s feet. “ now y’ gotta kiss me! ”